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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29123883">A Tale of Two People</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/icepanda/pseuds/icepanda'>icepanda</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Drug Addiction, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:40:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,010</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29123883</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/icepanda/pseuds/icepanda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Broken people can’t be fixed. They have to fix themselves. Sometimes, it’s nice to have a friend who understands.</p><p>—<br/>Takes place right after Spencer escapes from Tobias. Follows his journey of recovery as well as the girl he meets on the way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Tale of Two People</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The human brain has more neurons per unit volume than any other animal. In the absence of claws, fangs, and other predatory characteristics, the brain is what places people at the top of the world’s food chain. The human brain also has the largest frontal lobes of any animal. That’s what gives us self-control. Planning, logic, abstract thought— all come from these lobes. These traits are what makes a human.</p><p>The shape of vials pressed against Spencer’s thigh as he sat on the subway. They were no longer there, but he could feel the ghost of cool glass burning in his pants’ pocket. It wasn’t something he thought about doing- taking the vials. The action had been as automatic as breathing, and only afterwards did he realize the implications of that moment. The walk from Tobias’ body to where his teammates gathered had been the longest walk of his life. He considered turning back to return the dead man’s poison, but the jostling of the glass vials made a gentle <em>clink, clink</em> with every limp and the jostling inside his brain grew more violent with every second and he knew he was powerless. This wasn’t a feeling he liked. Sometimes, self-control and logic is all that makes Spencer Reid feel human. Right now he felt empty.</p><p>As he approached Gideon once more, Spencer had shoved his hands into his pockets to stop the sound, however unnoticeable it was. He let the paramedics inspect him (hiding the vials the best he could). He let them fix him up and bring him into the hospital for tests. None of his injuries were major, so he was discharged within a few hours. Morgan offered to drive him home, but he had denied. Morgan pressed, as he does, and Spencer deflected so vehemently that even Morgan couldn’t persist; after all, Spencer had the right to be alone after all that had happened. The more time passed, the foggier his brain felt, the angrier he felt at the world.</p><p>Now he was getting off the subway with the vials tucked safely in his bag, just where they had been the whole time. And yet, he again heard the <em>clink, clink</em> ringing in his ears and he just knew that everyone around him could hear it, too. It echoed as loud as church bells on that empty street, drawing sinners in. He eyed the few walking around him nervously and nearly jumped out of his skin when the man in front of him turned his head back at a noise. Spencer’s phone was ringing. Hotch. He swallowed the dry feeling in his mouth and wet his lips before answering.</p><p>“Hello,”</p><p>“Reid, Morgan told me the hospital discharged you. I was hoping they would keep you a bit longer... How are you feeling?”</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>There was silence on the other end. “Listen, you’re going to need to take some time off to let your ankle heal. Just take this week off to relax and we’ll reevaluate then.”</p><p>“My ankle isn’t that bad, I can come in tomorrow.”</p><p>“That wasn’t a request, that was an order. We can’t have you limping on the field or hurting yourself worse. You can come back sooner if you will settle for desk work, but you still need a psych eval before I even consider that.”</p><p>“Hotch-“</p><p>“You’re still in shock, Reid. I know that brain of yours is quick, but you’re going to need to rest and fully recover from what has happened. I’m not making the same mistake I made with Elle.”</p><p>He wanted to argue and say that he was <em>perfectly</em> capable of handling himself and doing his job, but he could tell from Hotch’s tone that arguing would only convince him that Spencer needed this break.</p><p>“Fine, I’ll take a few days off. But no more than three,” he snapped.</p><p>“Reid... I’ll talk to you later. Get some rest.”</p><p>He didn’t hesitate to hang up immediately, shoving his phone back in his pocket. He wiped his sweaty palms against his pants. Well, the pants Morgan lent him. <em>His</em> pants had been torn up and soiled with blood and piss and dirt and who knows what else. It’s not like Tobias had been considerate enough to schedule in bathroom breaks between torturing and shooting him up. Those pants were in a trash chute somewhere. Useless. They couldn’t do their job anywhere. It felt like Hotch was trying to tell him the same thing - you’ve been ruined. Your brain doesn’t do it’s job anymore. And now we’re going to get rid of you. Of course, that’s not what Hotch meant. But that’s what it felt like, which was somehow worse than if he had meant it.</p><p>Spencer Reid has a remarkable brain. He has been told this much for as long as he can remember. There is nothing wrong with his brain. It’s not sick and it has never been sick. His frontal lobes are fine. He hadn’t lost any of his self-control, he knew he could throw the vials away any time he wanted to. And so what if he had gotten high almost eight times in 48 hours? If anyone could resist addiction, it was the man with that wonderful brain. And he wasn’t addicted, he never had been, he never would be. Spencer Reid wasn’t an addict. He was just a man who happened to have dilaudid in his bag. That was all.</p><p>He reached his apartment complex and stared at his reflection in the elevator on his way up to the second floor. Dark shadows pressed themself all over his sunken face like children’s stamps on paper. He tried to smile, just to see if he could, but it made him feel like an animal baring his teeth. The eyes that stared back at him were dead. He unlocked the door of his apartment and then locked it behind him. He turned on all the lights. Then Spencer Reid, the man who was not an addict, fell asleep on his leather couch. It was dreamless.</p>
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